


you don't even know who i am

by lamourestout



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamourestout/pseuds/lamourestout
Summary: robbe and sander find time to hang out, even if someone always seem to find a way to interrupt them.





	you don't even know who i am

“Hey.” Robbe doesn’t expect the touch on his shoulder, the movement of another person in the deepening twilight. The huff of breath that leaves Sander’s mouth as he sits and Robbe slides his headphones off. 

“Hi.” A light reply, one he thinks might get carried off into the breeze that rustles the beach grass, that tousles his hair, and Sander’s. 

“I’m supposed to tell you that food will be ready in half an hour.” Sander says. Robbe glances over at him, catches eyes that are already looking at him, and he has to look away. Eyes that are too intense for him to handle right now meet his own, and he can feel his cheeks flush a little. 

“Okay.” He nods. He’s surprised that Noor didn’t strongarm her way into getting him by himself again. A deep breath, cool evening air allowing him to be a little less nervous. “You’re not cooking?” 

“No. I think the girls are making an event of it.” Hopefully, Robbe thinks,  _ all  _ of them. That he might have a little luck, a little more time alone with Sander. A little less time with Noor. 

“ _ Croques _ were good yesterday.” He finds himself saying, turning his head a little to look at Sander again. “It was fun.” Quietly, because it was fun up to the point where Britt appeared, Britt kissed Sander. They left and went off together, leaving Robbe to somehow figure out how to finish the food; to somehow make lunch for everyone and not burn any of it. 

A moment to think; he wonders if  _ this  _ is how Jana felt when Jens and Britt were together. It’s similar to how he felt when Jens and Jana were together. But it’s different. Stronger.  _ More _ . He’s only known Sander for a day, a day and a half, but he’s been able to breathe when they’ve been alone. An early morning grocery store, the walk to and from said grocery store, awkward on the way there, but more and more comfortable on the way back. He’s been able to have all these conversations without Sander  _ once  _ asking him about girls. A relief he didn’t know he could have. 

Sander, who doesn’t seem to care what people think; spinning around in the middle of the grocery store, singing and dancing in public to his favorite song, unashamedly playing his music out loud. Bleached hair, leather jacket, those boots. So different than Robbe’s one jacket, his attempts to blend in with everyone else, because he can’t have himself stand out; he can’t let people know that he’s not ━  _ the same _ . 

“Yeah, it was fun.” Sander breaks him out of thoughts. “What are you listening to?” He asks quickly, before the awkward silence that’s creeping towards them can settle. 

Robbe shrugs, “Just music.” He finds himself playing with his phone, tapping against the case. He might have spent some of his time, yesterday, listening to a few of the songs Sander had mentioned, but now, it’s just music; something to fill the space in his mind. 

“Music is  _ never  _ **just music** .” Sander states, and Robbe turns more, allowing himself to look at Sander’s face again. Sander’s face which has a hint of amusement fixed under his skin. A hint of openness and willingness to share his thoughts with those around him. 

“Yeah?” Quiet, again, but an invitation for Sander to keep talking. Because Robbe wants to hear him talk. Keep hearing him talk. Hear his thoughts about this and David Bowie, the visual arts Noor says he studies, why he bleached his hair, this and that and  _ everything _ . 

“Yeah.” Sander agrees, and he turns towards Robbe, a knee bending and pushing against the sand, pressing lightly against Robbe’s thigh. “It’s never just music. You have music you don’t like, right?” Robbe nods, “See, it’s not just music. Otherwise you would sit there and press play on a random playlist. We seek out something that feels the way we feel. The lyrics, the chords, the  _ vibe _ . We want to connect with something, especially when no one else knows how we feel. Music does that in a way nothing else can.” 

Sander doesn’t speak very loudly; there’s just the two of them, the wind on the beach, the faint sound of the sea. Robbe nods again. “Okay ━” he allows a small smile to creep onto his lips; an open smile that he hasn’t allowed in ages. “ ━ maybe it’s not  _ just music _ .” Sander returns the smile, a tiny quirk of his eyebrows. “Maybe I want to keep it a secret?” 

“Okay.” Sander teases. “You know  _ The Smiths _ ?” 

“Maybe.” Sander’s smile grows, “Of course.” 

“Asleep, by the  _ The Smiths _ . Type it in.” Sander points to Robbe’s phone. 

“Why don’t you?” 

“Left my phone inside.” Sander shrugs. Robbe hesitates for a moment, before turning his screen a little, just in case his mom texted him, unlocking his phone and swiping to Spotify. Hesitates again, because Sander is watching him, and it’s making his palms a little sweaty. Swipes to disconnect his headphones, first, then goes back to type in Sander’s song. 

“You -- you want to listen to it right now?” He looks back at Sander, still close ( _ close and close and close to him _ ), and it sidetracks him for a second. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” Robbe turns up the volume, and then presses play; locking his phone immediately, holding it up a little so they can hear the song play from the speaker as the music fades in. 

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do; is he supposed to comment on the song as it plays, or simply let Sander whisper sing some of the words, sway a little to the beat. He chooses the later, choosing to look at the other, watch how the song changes his face. Even when he doesn’t vocalize the words, he’s still mouthing along, and his eyes shut a little, for a few seconds. They open and look right at Robbe, which makes him flash his gaze away. 

It’s a nice song.

But sad. 

He says as much, once the song ends. Once he stops it. Once they sit there and stare at the waves for a minute. “It’s sad.” 

“Yeah.” Sander agrees. “But I like it. It’s soothing. Calming.” Robbe doesn’t have anything to say to that. Just a tilt of his head in an understanding of Sander’s words. “It’s like what I said. Sometimes a song understands you more than people do.” 

Robbe looks at Sander, and Sander stares at the sand between them, one hand tracing a circle in the sand. 

“Do you want to know what I was listening to?” Robbe offers. Something tugs at him to make Sander grin again, light up his eyes again. Sander lifts his chin, and the side of his lips turn up a little.

“If you’re ready to not be so secretive.” Robbe huffs out a little laugh. 

“I’m not secretive.” 

“You’ve barely said anything all day.” Sander speaks too truthfully, hits too close to home. “Seems secretive to me.” Robbe lets his eyes trace Sander’s face for a second before he’s turning away, letting his gaze follow the curve of the beach. 

“I have things on my mind.” Robbe says. 

“What kind of things?” Sander asks. Robbe stares at the sand in front of him. 

“We should go back, they’ll be waiting.” He has to deflect. 

“Or we could go somewhere else. Who cares about dinner?” Sander moves around a bit, the sound of his jeans against the sand a quiet murmur beside him. When Robbe looks back up, Sander has a quirked eyebrows and a joint in his hand. “Not far, just a little down the beach?” He adds, when Robbe hesitates. 

“Okay.” 

And he finds himself laying back against a small sand dune, staring at the darkening blue of the sky, the grey clouds that come quickly and disperse quicker, whenever Sander blows smoke above them. Their fingers brush against each other’s as they pass the joint between them, shoulders pressed against each other’s, especially when Sander holds the joint loosely between his fingers. 

“So, you and Noor ━ ?” Sander finally breaks their silence. Robbe sighs. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” He has to say it, there’s no other way to describe it. His voice is flat when he says it, any trace of a smile lifted from his face, his face turns away from Sander. 

“Okay.” 

“How long have you and Britt been together?” He asks.

“Summer.” Sander answers. A nudge of his shoulder, and Sander is passing him the joint again. 

“Okay.” He takes the joint, but still doesn’t look at Sander. Inhale, hold, exhale. Passes it back and lets his eyes fall shut. “She and Jens used to date.” It’s a little passive aggressive, the little jab he takes to say  _ hey, her ex is here _ , because seeing Sander and Britt kiss yesterday (and today) made his stomach hurt. 

“Oh. I didn’t know.” 

“Yeah.” Robbe breathes out. Turns his head a little to the side, re-opens his eyes, only to find Sander looking at him. Again. Like he’s watching Robbe when he isn’t looking. Which makes his breathing catch a little, and he breathes in deep. Looks away. “She’s nice, though. Most of the time.” 

“So is Noor.” Sander says. 

“Yeah.” Sander sits up, pressing the joint into the sand to extinguish the snub. Robbe follows him with his eyes, “Time to go back?” 

“We don’t have to.” Sander’s hair catches the breeze a bit, and it’s bordering on too dark to see his face. But he can feel Sander staring at him. Robbe pushes himself up a bit, elbows digging into the sand underneath him, propping himself up. “Robbe ━ ” Sander says quietly. 

“Yeah?” Robbe replies. Sander shifts a little closer, but suddenly Robbe’s phone rings, the familiar tones breaking into his mind, the vibration in his pocket, and he’s not paying attention to anything else, digging into his pocket to pull out his phone, begging to not see  _ Papa _ on the screen. Thankfully, it doesn’t.  _ Mama  _ instead. “Sorry, I ━ ” He points at the screen before scrambling up, answering and walking a bit away from Sander. 

“Robbe?” His mother’s voice comes through the phone line. 

“Hi, Mama.” He says quietly. “How are you doing?” 

“I miss you. Are you coming to visit, again, soon?” 

“I was just there last week. I’m ━ I’m on vacation with Jens this week, remember? It’s break?” 

“Oh. Of course. I remember.” It sounds like she didn’t remember. 

“They’re calling me for dinner, so I need to go, but you can text me if you need something.” It’s his promise every time. 

“You’ll come back again?” 

“Yeah.” Robbe says. “I really have to go, I’m sorry.” 

“I love you.” She says, 

“I know. I love you, too.” He says quietly. Hangs up after a moment of hesitation. A sigh, a deep breath as he pushes his phone back into his pocket. 

He turns back towards Sander, now standing with his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting for his phone call to finish. 

“Everything okay?” Sander asks, taking a few steps forward. Robbe nods quickly, 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Let’s go back, now?” He says, starting back down the beach. Quiet footsteps in the sand catch him up after a few moments, and Sander walks quietly next to him, hands matching his own stuffed in his jacket pockets. Robbe is glad it’s dark out. Sander can’t see his face, dropped into worry and the tiredness that oft greets him in the mirror in the morning. 

“We should cook for everyone tomorrow.” Sander finally says, once the sound of everyone else comes into view. “And I’ll play more Bowie for you.” 

“Okay. Bowie and cooking.” Robbe agrees. Sander nudges his shoulder, grins at him as their faces find shadowed lighting again. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr @evenbchnsheim


End file.
